A Knife in the Dark
by Quenril
Summary: Centered around a child named Kinya, who's roots are explained in this story; her mother's a whore, her half brother must take care of her, and some interesting travelers have come to their town, including Aragorn, Gandalf, Elladan, Elrohir and Halbarad.
1. Ice and Drunkards

Because I am an idiot this is the THRID time I'm uploading this today…goodness. This sucks not having anything other then a dial up connection. Anyways, I've edited this story…AGAIN! Thank you to all my few loyal, loevely reviews who've helped me. I know, I'm a dork. I've edited this thing to death. Just…go and die somewhere if you odn't like it. And yes, it does take a few chapters for any of the cannon characters to turnup, I know. It's entirely necessary, as you'll soon find out. And I PROMISE that I'll continue working on part two…this is my last edit…I swear it…

A Knife in the Dark

Part 1

Mother hadn't woken up for two days. I sat on the dirt floor, playing with the doll I'd received for my second birthday three weeks previous. Malkemen sat at the table, his brilliant green eyes, so different from my cold gray ones, looking over at Mother. His fingers were fiddling with his dagger, the one he always wore, and used; and odd companion for a six-year-old. It was his fathers, whom he had never met, and the thing he'd used to pay my mother for 'services rendered'. It was all my brother had of him, and he treasured it.

The fire was dying low, and I shivered against the nipping cold. Malkemen put one of our dwindling supply of logs onto the fire. "Not many left," he stated, and went to sit back in his chair, rag covered feet barely touching the floor.

I was so cold my fingers were stiff as they unbraided my doll's hair that my brother had so lovingly done for me. She was my only toy, and I loved her with all my heart. Her name was Nima. My mother had made her from scraps of clothing and cloth. The dress itself was constructed of three types of miss-matched material, her small black eyes were different beads, and her hair was an unbraided piece of rope, but I did not see that. All I saw was Nima, my beloved.

I tucked her in my tiny arms and hobbled to the bed where mother was sleeping. She was often sick, but never sleeping for so long. I wished she'd get up and make it warm. Maybe I could get in bed with her, and then I'd be warm. I touched her face.

It was colder then my own burning hands. It was a deeper cold, a final cold; a cold that could not be relieved. I let out a stumbling cry. Why was she so cold? Mother was supposed to make it warm. Mother was supposed to make it better. Why wasn't she making it better? I began to cry.

Malkemen ran over and kneeled in front of me. "Kinya, Kinya, what's wrong?" I was too upset to answer, but started banging on her arm to get her to respond. He looked at her sunken cheeks, darkened eyes and patched lips. He rested his arm on her shoulder and shook her slightly. "Mother? Mother?" he cooed. She didn't move.

"Muter? Muter?" My voice was as high as the biting wind that rattled through the cloth windows. Still, she did not move.

Malkemen began to whimper himself. "Mother? Please get up, Mother!" He shook her harder.

As we stood there, a harsh knock vibrated through the room and the door smashed open. I moved into Malkemen, who put his arms around me protectively, and we both attempted to evaporate into the shadows. I hated them, always coming in with Mother at night from next door. They always acted so strange at night, sometimes as though they talked like me or couldn't see where they were going. When there were men over, Mother always made us stay behind the curtain to sleep. I hated being there, for it was so dark and small. I wanted to be with Mother, not all alone. But she'd get mad at me when I cried back there, so I didn't cry there anymore.

Three men from the pub next door shuffled in. They kept swaying like it was windy inside the house. First was the blacksmith, Raschk, who rarely came over and often glared and poked fun at our family, especially Malkemen. The second was a fisherman who was also a rare visitor, who's name I did not know. The third, however, I knew well, for this man in particular was over a lot. Talcum was his name, also a fisherman, and a big hairy fellow who was fond of his ale and had a rotten temper. He often saw us before we were under the curtain, and always picked me up and kissed me roughly, his scraggly bead rough against my innocent skin. I didn't like it, nor did I like him. He always smelled so strongly of fish and sweat that I'd want to start gagging. I could see their slime on his beard and the remnants of blood from the bait in his fingernails.

"Sleeping on the job!" Talcum bellowed. He leaned on Raschk, who in turned leaned on the first fisherman, until he fell down under the weight and causing all three to plunge on the floor. After taking longer then I would to get up, they saw us standing in front of the bed. "You-ou-ou-ou-ou," the farmer slurred, waving at a spot somewhere close to our location. I cried harder. I wished Mother would get up and make them go away, even though she always let them stay before.

All three stumbled over to where we were. Talcum waved his arms horizontally, brushing us aside forcefully. He squinted down at mother, as though he couldn't get her in focus. Suddenly he stood stock-still. "She's dead," he muttered, eyes rolling. "The fever! The fever is among us!" He swayed away from her, and then spotted us again. "Little brats must ave it, too!" He began backing away, propelling into the table and cursing.

Raschk and the fisherman were took a few moments to be alarmed by Talcum. "Got to get rid of you afor we're all infected!" the fisherman proclaimed. He picked up a chair and swung it at us. We both screamed, and Malkemen shielded from me from it, although it landed far to our right. I stood up and ran to Mother and grabbed hold of her freezing hands, crying and crying. I jumped up and down, furiously, jamming my legs forcefully into the ground, up, and down again, screaming for her to get up.

Raschk stumbled for the fireplace, and grabbed hold of one of the flaming logs, and flung it across the room toward us. It missed, and went sputtering into the bed which Malkemen and I shared. The moth eaten blankets began to smother instantly.

Malkemen dodged around all three men, grabbed two blankets and a loaf of bread, and headed towards Mother and I. He knelt beside me and whispered, "Kinya, we have to go."

I stood there, clutching my rag doll, close to Mother's bed. "Kinya!" His voice was urgent now. "We have to go, _now_." I was so scared, I couldn't move, couldn't leave Mother. I heard the pounds of the three men stumbling around, and felt the heat of the flames as they grew.

"Muter?" I asked, my voice as shaky as my hands.

"She'll be alright, but we have to go, or those men could do bad things to us. Mother will be all right. Trust me, Kinya." He began half pulling, half dragging me out the door. I struggled, screaming, but his advantage in size and age overpowered me, and before I knew it I was out in the biting cold. Why were we going out when we could stay inside? I wanted to be warm, with Mother, sitting inside with her hugging me.

"Going? Cold, cold, cold! Mahkemn! Mahkemn?" my tongue struggled around his name as it always did.

"Shhhhh." He murmured. "I don't know, I don't know." He was crying, too. He never cried, he always took care of me. He wasn't supposed to cry.

"You, know! Go, go, go! Muter, Muter!"

He placed the warmer of the two blankets around me, and placed the other around his shoulders. I was so distressed that I wouldn't hold on to it to keep it up, but instead tried to run back inside. I wanted MOTHER! The door banged open behind us to reveal Raschk squinting at us. "There they are!" he bellowed, and stumbled out on the frozen, barren ground.

Malkemen pulled on my arm again, grabbing the blanket I'd dropped and forcing it back on me. While he held it around my shoulders, he dragged me away. We ran as fast as my tiny legs could go, which was desperately slow, considering my size, age, lack of nutrition and half wanting to go in the opposite direction. If Raschk had not been at the door coming towards us, I would have resisted more, but his appearance frightened me to no end. Without looking back to see how close he was, Malkemen pulled me over to a door and knocked furiously.

"Here, we'll see if someone will take us in," he panted. "Oh, quick, quick." He murmured. Two elderly people lived there, but there was no light coming under the door from a fire and after several loud bangs at the door, no one came.

I had looked back to see our house. But I couldn't find it. I did, however see a big fire. It was larger then the huge bon fire I'd burned myself on at the summer festival. People from the pub and nearby houses around ours had come out to look at it. It was so large and pretty! I wanted to watch it, to go nearer so that I could be warm. Fire was warm! And it was cold outside.

Malkemen started crying. "That's our house, Kinya."

I didn't really understand him. That wasn't a house, that was a big fire. I simply continued to observe through my tears. I saw one of our three intruders following the rest of the villagers and watching dumbly as our house burned down, as though he had not been the cause of it before and was shaken to the core by the sight. It took me a moment to position the other two. One was lying flat on his back, sleeping like a baby. The other, I realized with horrification, was stumbling towards us, his fist raised above his head. Because of the fire, no one paid the slightest amount of attention to him. However, a full grown man, drunk or no, was more then two measly children could handle, and we ran off to the back side of the houses were the fire didn't illuminate our appearances.

We sulked over to the closest house, one that held seven children. "They should help us," he breathed. There where noises coming from inside, that of several excited children and an older voice attempting to shush them.

Malkemen knocked tentatively on the door. I stood there, half behind him, half looking curiously at the closed door. There was a soft scramble inside, an excited scream of "I wanna get it!" and the calm voice of a mother saying, "Alright, Rama. Watched her, please, Finrel."

The door opened to reveal the small and excited face of a girl somewhere between five and six. "Mama! Mama! It's the other children! The ones you won't let us play with! The ones who's house is on fire! Come in, come in, we can all sleep together in my bed, and play with Pigel's blocks and have lots of fun!" She was squealing with excitement, and I began to also.

The mother, however, was quite a different story. As soon as she saw us she had patted the boys head she was putting to bed and was standing over her child in the doorway. "Away with you! We have no place for you. Get away! You are children of sin, and you will not condemn this house. Away!" The door was slammed in our faces.

We continued on, but not a single other household even opened it's doors. I was too frozen even to chatter. "Mahkemn?" I cried weekly. "Home?"

"I know, I know," he murmured, ever trying to calm me. "We have to find shelter, but no house will open for us. We can't go home, Kinya. Home burned down. Try to think of warm thoughts. Think of the beach, in the summer, and climbing on the warm cliffs, and the cave-" He suddenly cut off. He had distracted me for a moment, and suddenly I was crashed back to reality after my five-second-bliss. "I have an idea, Kinya, but it'll take a while to get there. It's all we may have, though. Are you ready for a long walk, Kinya?"

"Walk, home!" I shrugged.

"Yes, and no. A place to sleep."

"Home."

"For now. Come on." He said, and began to lead the way towards the ocean.

An hour, many rests, tears, falls, and complaints later, we reached the shore where we'd so often played. We'd found a cave here that summer, and on our trips to the sea spent our time exploring it. Mother always took us down here, away from the dock and the men and the fish. We'd never gone to the dock once, but we could still see it's flag and larger boats where they were tied, and once I'd had the pleasure of seeing one come back in from sea. Our swimming cove was quiet, small, and alone. Now, it seemed, we were going there again. Malkemen slowly and deliberately began to instruct me to climb the cliffs to the cave, and under his care I only slipped once.

The cave was smaller then our cabin, but much taller, so that I couldn't throw a rock high enough to hit the ceiling. The whole place glittered softly with crystals of frozen water. It was still cold, but there was no one to bother us, and we were out of the wind. We snuggled as best as we could against the unforgiving stones, the two blankets around the both of us as a desperate attempt to hold in some of out body heat, while my arms clutched Nima. My shivering had come back and now would not stop, and the tears that had finally ceased upon reaching the cave had started again. My brother brushed my temple softly and began to sing the words to a tune he must have made up himself, for no one had ever sung to us.

The stars may twinkle in the sky

And the moon will always shine bright

But my heart will always be free

Cause you are my sunshine.

Sunshine, sunshine

Don't darken your luminous heart

For if you do, I'll loose all with you

Cause you are my sunshine.

The next day, Malkemen and I walked all the way back to the town. I was excited; we were going home, going to see Mother! But Mother wasn't there, and neither was our house, just a lot off black stuff on the ground. I asked Malkemen over and over where Mother was, where home was. All he ever said was they were gone. I didn't understand that. Mother had always been there, and so was home. I cried for a while, for many, many days. But soon I discovered what that meant. It meant no Mother, and Home was a cave. It meant Malkemen, and it meant cold. I learned what they were when I had nothing else.


	2. Sandy Haven

Part 2

Only a few weeks after the incident, all of the villagers who had not seen us walk back they day after had learned of our lingering existence. However, as we still were alive it must have occurred to them we had obviously not encountered the disease that had killed our mother. Because we had not yet stolen from any of the villagers, a fair amount did not believe we deserved death. Luckily, that ratio was large enough to halt any violent action against us. However, there were not near enough for someone to take us in, nor cease the flow of the constant threats aimed at us when we did dare to venture away from the our spot on the seashore.

My brother found work where he could, hauling firewood or assisting a craftsman for a day in return for a meal. There was little a six-year-old boy could do, few who would accept him, and fewer who needed further help. I always sat quietly as he worked, quickly learning patience for a single meal split between the two of us. He often got a days work scaling chopping the fish caught the day before, as it was one any person could do and the more working, the better. However, our reward was often fish. I grew to hate fish, and cherish it all the same. It happens when you live in a town by the sea.

We stole rarely, and when we did, Malkemen would do it so subtly and with so abundant and unimportant foodstuffs that it was never noticed. We scavenged in the forest, finding nuts and berries and even the occasional critter. We also sucked everything we could from the sea, boiling seaweed and digging for clams. Our hunt proven to be a success on one summer's day, we sat happily on the beach off of the cliffs.

Sleepily, I rubbed my tiny fist into my aching eyes and got sand in them. I began to try and rub it out, only making the situation worse.

He smiled, came over, and used a partly clean section of his shirt to wipe my eyes. "I know, Kinya. Sand always gets you, doesn't it? On day, we'll go somewhere. Where there is no sand. We'll just leave. As soon as you are old enough to travel, when you are close to my age."

"Your age?" I questioned, moaning. The sand in my eyes had put me in a fairly pessimistic mood, not to mention painting my cheeks with little ribbons of water. "You, old!" I began to panic. He was so very old, I'd have to live winters and summers and winters and summers and more and more until I'd lived so long…

"I'm not very old." He said, looking down. "If I was, then we'd leave right now, cause I could take care of you, no matter what age you were. I could bang on peoples doors, tell them to give you some food. I'd be strong and brave, and no one would be mean to us, cause I'd hurt them if they were!" He looked down at me.

"Go home? A house? Bed?"

He sat down. "No one will take us in, Kinya. I don't really know why. Maybe they didn't like Mother. Maybe cause they're afraid they won't be able to feed us and there wouldn't be enough for everybody. It can't be that they think we have the fever because we aren't dead. But it won't matter later, cause we'll leave this place and never come back. It's not so long, to live as long as I have. Maybe we'll leave sooner. But we can't leave now; you're too young."

"I'm BIG!" I proclaimed, squirming and fumbling my arms and legs and getting even more sand in my eyes. I then furiously attempted to get it out, doing no better the last time such an incident had occurred. Malkemen chuckled.

"No, silly, you are too little; even here you're getting in trouble," he chided. "We may as well wait until we have the best chance of survival, cause if we leave too soon then we'd just get in a lot of trouble wherever we go, and that would be no better then here, would it?"

I didn't quite understand all of the words, for he was saying them to fast. All I'd heard was 'no, little, you, trouble, wait have, leave soon get trouble, no better and would it?' But I did understand he was talking about other places in the world. "Where we go? Better?"

"I don't know. But there's got to be better, or it wouldn't make sense. No one would live if they didn't think there was anything better out there, cause they'd think that was it and just die. So even if there isn't anything better out there, I'm not gonna take that chance, cause I'd rather look for it instead of excepting this for being it. Cause there are good things even here, Kinya. Like the sea and the rocks; they give us food and shelter when nothing else would. So how can a world with good things not have some good too?"

"Where?"

Malkemen got up and started walking around as he talked, his feet pacing faster and faster as he continued. "We will follow the sea northwards or southwards, or maybe even up into those mountains. We'll learn, Kinya. Maybe we'll get jobs for periods of time, or learn the traveling crafts, but we'll never stay anywhere long. We'll grow up and become strong and wise and we'll help children like us. Children with no parents and no place to go, and we'll help them find families and homes. So that way, even if every where's like this, it won't matter, cause we'll make it better! We'll be happy and good, and we'll be together forever."

I smiled at this, finally content for the time being. We picked up our meal and went back to the cave, each in our own happy thoughts about the future.


	3. Midnight Demons

Part 3

On that night, the night when I was filled with hope after a long two years of desperate life, something happened to me that had never happened before. I was relaxed and free in my sleep, and in that relaxation a demon snuck in and conquered my mind.

My piercing cries ripped into the silent night. My brother must have been there, but I could not see him, or anything at all around me. I could not wake up, could not escape. Picture upon horrifying picture flashed in through my mind, indented into my memory forever then stored away to make room for more. The fragments of images being beaten into me came so fast that they ran into one another, yet I still saw each one with alarming clarity. One moment, I saw _a mother dying in childbirth, a soldier being tortured for information, two lovers kissing in a moonlit glade, the same female screaming as he is beheaded two days later…A horse being broken in, a maiden cursing silently over her imperfect stitching, a short man in a dank cave speaking to some tiny inhuman being._ They kept going, and I struggled to stop them, gapping for freedom as a suffocating person gropes for air, and I could not find it. Instead, I saw _massive battles, a dead man slowly sinking in a clear pool, and my own brother, beaten and broken, being tossed over the cliffs and into the massive waves…_

Suddenly, and without warning, they stopped. My skin was laced with desperate perspiration and my hair most likely sticking up everywhere in a rats nest. Malkemen's own ashen face was only inches from my own; his startling innocent eyes shining right through my guilty hard gray ones. I did not say a word, but I could not hold back the wrenching sobs tearing at my throat. Malkemen swiftly got up and went towards the back of the cave, and I began to moan in protest. He looked back at me, saying, "I'm right here, little sister. Just getting you some water." He took one of the seashells we used as cups, and gently scooped some of the fresh water that accumulated itself there from the rocks. I could see him the whole time, but that wasn't enough, and I was sobbing and sobbing until he returned to me.

He was back at my side in a matter of seconds, and he brought the shell to my lips and forced me too drink. I sputtered on the perfect water that collected itself so shamelessly for us, here where we had nothing. Most of it ended up flowing down my neck, thanks to my sobbing and sputtering, but a few drops got down, and for some reason feeling the water cooled me down and relaxed me a little. But when Malkemen stood up to get more, I made a protest even greater then before and attached myself too him. He half smiled, half frowned, and sat back down, settling me on his lap and putting my beloved Nima on mine.

Malkemen looked troubled. "Kinya, you're eyes, they…."

I looked at him. "Mahkemn, me no wake up, me no wake up!"

He held me more tightly. "I know, I know little sister." We sat in silence for a while. Tears made little rivers down my face. Brushing the hair from my face, he sang,

Sunshine, sunshine.

Don't weep and hide your face

For I need you to light up fine

To show me the way.

The stars may twinkle in the sky,

And the moon will always be bright

But my heart will always be free

Cause you are my sunshine.

I relaxed a little more, and soon fell asleep in his arms. I was to wake up twice in the night to similar images, but both times I had the slight control to slip back into eventually consciousness, for they were simple nightmares. However, as the seasons changed I had several occurrences like the first that night, where I could not wake from the flashes of infinite darkness. The fourth time this happened, Malkemen told me what had made him cringe the first time he saw it- my eyes alighting with a silver glow every time a new image was revealed to me. He warned me never to let the villagers know of this, for it seemed I was possessed by demons.


	4. Tavern Secrets

Part 4

Malkemen had spent the day helping the innkeeper's wife prepare a newly killed pig. There was a small celebration in the pub; a pig was a rare treat and preferable change from fish. He had been slicing, boiling, smoking and packing the thing, and although I tried to help, after only half an hour it was apparent I was more of a help simply watching, as usual. So I had sat and watched, etching in the dirt and stacking rocks to enliven my day, and now, after his full day of work, we were both rewarded with a wholesome meal and piece of silver.

My main concern, as it was most days now, was to stay awake. My eyelids were so heavy I could feel the invisible demons pressing on them, urging me to let go so they could take me. I had discovered that they came to me more easily when sleeping, so I now spent my nights staring at the jagged rock ceiling of our cave until I dropped off into oblivion. And often, when I held out long enough, they did not come to my dreamless slumber until the sun rose; a morbid wakening.

So we sat quietly in the pub, watching the villagers have a bite or drink, Malkemen with attentive wariness, me with a will to keep myself occupied so I didn't drop off. The room itself was filled with the odor of different pipes, each mingling with one another to make a horrid thick atmosphere. We of course got a few glares as we always did, but today a group of them had obviously drunk more then their usual, and were boldly proclaiming over the racket how our presence dirtied the town of Nove.

"Them two!" belched Talcum, the same man who had come into our home the night it burned down. We often stayed away from him, for he never gave us jobs anyway. However, at times like these he could not be completely avoided. "Sitting around, beggin' for jobs. Them bastard children ruin it, suck the happiness right outa the place. Dirty little rags, with their lice and dirt in this here pub, eating as though they belong to Nove. That boy's gonna turn inter a lyin' thief, and she's gonna grow into a lil' whore. I still say we kill 'em, they ain't no use!"

I was used to such death threats, especially from him. However, I still looked over at Malkemen and said, "Mahkemn, what's a 'lil' whore'?"

He looked sharply at me. "Don't listen to em, Kinya. Don't look at 'em, don't do nothin'. They say nothin' but lies. And don't ever repeat anything they say!" He went back to tearing at his ham, and I turned back around to look at them again.

Demper, a grouchy old widower with half his teeth and hair fallen out growled, "I don' like 'er especially! She's a creepy one, her. Got a devil in her, I say." He looked right at me, and I turned back around pretty quickly.

"Told you," Malkemen whispered, kissing my temple. "Just eat, little one." I ate, but couldn't block out Demper's voice. I was almost sure none of the villagers knew about the demons, but nonetheless he had frightened me. Had Malkemen not been calm, I might've fallen out of my chair.

"Tis pure evil, that one." He continued. I kept my back turned, and Malkemen took my hand. "One of my chickens died last night, an' I know who killed him! Stealing from us all they are, how else have they stayed alive this long?"

Several boisterous comments followed. We had finished our dinner, and Tilby, the innkeeper's wife, called in Malkemen to help with a last chore to earn another piece of meat to take home. He turned to me. "I'll be back soon. Stay here, and don't do anything." I nodded. I was used to waiting.

Moments after he had departed, their jeers reached a climax, and I started to hear shouts of "You there!", "Girl" and "Hey, bitch!" I stated shaking and breathing hard. _Stay here, Malkemen told me to stay here…don't leave._ I really wouldn't have moved but for a pair of strong, callused hands that grabbed my few whips of hair and yanked me over to their table. It was a small place, which made all the gargantuan people even larger- I hardly came up to some of their knees. I squirmed at first, but Raschk, who I knew to be the one holding me by his smoky aroma and thick arms, only yanked my hair up so I was standing on my tiptoes to try and relieve some of the pain. He released me- I did not relax, but stood there trying not to cry and trembling slightly at their leering faces.

"You, girl!" shouted Talcum. "Refresh my memory-what's your name?"

I looked at the floor, studying the foot prints and patterns as I often did while waiting for the day to be through and a meal awarded. It wasn't working.

"Ey!" another remarked. "You'll respond when we tell ya, lil' bitch! Or are you happy with that name?" He came up and roughly pushed my chin up so I could see him. Instead of letting him see how scared I was, I allowed myself to glare at him as only a three year old could. This brought up only more laughter among the bar.

"Girls' got fire!" proclaimed one of the bearded farmers. "That'll be a handy gift when she's older!"

"That's rrright!" My unused voice was amazingly shrill against their deep and rough ones. "I'll use it when I'm olterr when Mahkemn and I are elping children like us and killing bat people like you!"

The roar in the tavern was deafening at this proclamation. As it subdued, Talcum continued. "Yes, well, we knew your brother's name was Malkemen. Always thought that was bit high for the bastard. Sounds elven. He's a bit high for any name, if you ask me. And you! Bet you've got yourself the name of a queen!"

"My name is Kinya!" My voice was as loud and true as it could be, but my boldness resulted in more laughter, causing a dramatic change in tone when I added, "Muter said it sounded like falling leaves."

"Never thought it was inappropriate for one such as you?" inquired the blacksmith.

"I like my name," I murmured.

"Don't think we can go on calling them by such wondrous names," pondered Demper. "Can't call these rats by elven names and 'natural wonders'. Should shorten 'em. Call 'em Rat en Face."

"Naw, got to make it understandable. Can't have 'em responded to any words, we need to be able to call 'em. Need to have a name, sommat to whisper in the dark…" This remark was followed a large number of rude guffaws, and someone tweaked a piece of my hair painfully. "Call 'em Mal n' Kin. No…..Ya's more crude. Mal sounds like a dying goat and Ya a screaming cat; much more appropriate."

Drunken chortles vibrated throughout the pub. An unsynchronized chorus of mocking 'Ya''s quivered all around me. I was so frightened, but there where so many of them, all large and hairy and strong. And then the demons came again.

_A mother watching her children on a beach far different from the one we inhabited, for it was devoid of rocks and filled simply with mounds of sand. There are three children, all around my age, and I thought vaguely of how it would be fun to play with them. All of the four's wispy red hair curls about their faces after escaping the binds that still holds the majority of their locks. The older three are splashing in the waves, one moment in complete control of their bodies and the next helpless to the wrath of nature. The youngest, however, stays in the sand, although his hair is wet, giving away past experiences. He sits constructing a sand castle with his mother, and giggling as she cunningly places a seashell on the highest tower to represent a flag… _

_ Peasants living in a wavy grassland run to their homes in desperate attempt to bar their doors against the oncoming soldiers. They are a black mob, hungry for slaughter and fire in their eyes. The soldiers are not men. They are bigger then men, and their skin is dark and slimy and their faces are painted with crude symbols. They wave their weapons and hack through doors and people the few still unsheltered, their triumphant howls not overriding the blood curdling screams that accompany them… _

_ One_ _man, a farmer, standing in front of his home. Three of the monsters in front of him, but he has a spade in his hand. A small girl, only a year or two older then myself, is standing behind him, screaming, "Daddy! Daddy!" Her mother, the man's wife, must have heard her daughter and had already opened the door to grab her, and screams before…_

****_A bed, a little child. A man sitting over it. Her face is tight and pale, his almost as draught but still healthy. She coughs and reaches up to him. He holds her hand softly, wiping her hair back from her temple…_

_ A few moments later, the same room, same bed, same people. Only she is quiet, and the man is standing. He has a knife in his hands, and is about the plunge it down into his throat…_

My own cry resonated over the hubble of the tavern. I had only been overcome for but a moment, but in that short moment I had seen heaven and hell, and every villager had seen a distinct silver glow flash within my pupil which was the demon that showed me them. I had done what Malkemen had told me never to do.

The villagers all stood stock still, staring at me with frightened eyes. A few whispers broke out near the bar, and Raschk suddenly pointed and cried out. "Demons! That child is damned! Get her away, quick!"

Raschk had been the start of my doom. The voices picked up and carried throughout the pub, each one of them screaming at me to die and stop my evil presence. My sobs, which were so labored that I could hardly breathe, where not even audible amongst the clamor.

Behind it all, I heard a thin voice crying "Kinya, Kinya!", and I cried "Mahkemn, Mahkemn!" in return. Someone must've grabbed him and brought him forward. Several people spat at him. He struggled a bit, but soon found it hopeless, just as I had. I suddenly realized that although he was bigger then me, he was so much smaller then all of them. Instead of feeling relieved because of his presence, I was more deeply frightened, for now we were both in a circle of drunks with murder in their eyes.

I started to run to him, but now Talcum's hand came out and grabbed me around my chest and legs so that I was immobile. "You know," he whispered, "the only reason we're keeping you alive is cause of the good morals of our wives. Point is, we can kill ya-" he laughs to himself, "any time we damn well please. Especially after your little secret- the wives will be pleased to get rid of a demon child. We're just saving _you_ for another night. Actually, we'll probably jus' kill your brother, and wait an see how pretty you turn out. We won't mind keeping ya alive much then, cause you'll be damned no matter what you do, don't matter to us if you're lower in the town then before. Just like your mother. She's in hell now- burning and burning cause she was an evil woman, just like you'll be. You knew she was an evil woman, right? You know what she did? You know that she used herself, Ya, to get and indecent living?" He glared down at me, basking in my terror at his looming face. "Anyways, if you're looking promising, we'll let ya have the same job she did, that is till ya start getting' wrinkles and begin to sag." With that, he took a swig and fell backwards. Amidst the fresh laughter, several people got distracted enough where we could slip away at a run.

The distance kept getting shorter every time we ran back to the cave, but on this occasion seemed much to stretch and stretch as we slowly passed every rock, every blade of grass. By the time we got there we were both panting and shaking. Without a word, Malkemen stored his piece of silver on a little shelf which was previously empty, and I was sure would be again soon in a matter of days, when we could find someone who would accept money from us. I grabbed my little doll Nima and hugged her tight, watching Malkemen as he determinedly got ready for bed. Seeing no other option, I took my blanket, waited for him to lie down, and lay down next to him, as I did every night.

He didn't say anything, and I was afraid he'd gone to sleep. I was too frightened to go to sleep. I didn't want nightmares, didn't want demons, didn't want to see the villagers or what was really there. I didn't really want anything, and to get rid of it all, I asked Malkemen a question that was burning inside me.

"Mahkemn, was Muter bad?"

He tensed up and jerked violently, before slowly turning around so we were face to face on the ground, his expression soft. "No, Kinya, Mother was not bad. What they told you were all lies."

"But-but—"

"Kinya." He took both his hands and cupped them around my face, placing his own close to mine so that our noses were touching. "I promise you, Mother didn't do what they say she did. She wasn't bad, and you won't be bad, either. I promise." And without another word, he lied down and went to sleep.


	5. Guests in the Cave

Part 5

My forth birthday came and went, as little celebrated as the cold winter which accompanied it. It was so harsh that Malkemen, now almost eight, had little trouble finding work, and often used it to get us a room warmer then the cave at night. The only help my birthday brought was that because I was a year older, I was one year closer to leaving the miserable town of Nove, and setting off on the wonderful adventure my brother planned for us. The demons continued to come, but I was aware and prepared for them, and somehow realized that if I thought hard enough about holding onto them, I could keep them away to some extent. Spring bloomed effortlessly, and all thoughts of the harsh winter washed away with the rains, and I was hopeful for the future. Except for when I was hungry.

We walked in the brisk morning to the town. There was a little well on the left side of the street that was used by the people who didn't have their own, most of them who lived on the other side of town. Why it was placed here, I never truly understood. However, this well served it's own purpose to us; this is where we met any villager who wanted our, or rather Malkemen's, service.

The air was crisp, and the dew stung my bare feet. Still far off in the field, I could see no one was awaiting us at the foot of the well. It was the third day in a row. I felt my stomach, which hadn't eaten for the past two days, start to coil around itself. _Oh, please let him work with the women and fish today! _

We made our way to where a gaggle of women were scaling yesterday's catch. Their leader saw us instantly. "No work for ya her, young rascles. We've got young Miss Petty now." She nodded to the young girl, a few years older then Malkemen, who was furiously trying to master the art. "We'll need you even less."

Malkemen nodded, and we turned away.

"You're better then she is."

He nodded.

"Why don't you tell them that?"

"Because they already know."

"Then why don't they hire you?"

"Because they don't like me."

"Why?"

"They just don't."

"If they did like you, would they hire you for every day instead. Why don't you work somewhere everyday?"

"This work, it's women's work. They won't take me everyday."

"What's the difference between men's and women's work? Why can't you do either?"

"That's just how it is."

"I don't like it."

"It's just how it is."

"Why don't you get a job every day doing man's work?"

"I've asked, and no one's taken me."

"Why don't you ask again?"

"Because they know I'm here. I offer all the time, and no one ever accepts. We never leave, Kinya. Everyone knows who we are."

"So?" This wasn't making any sense.

He just shook his head.

I felt like I was gasping for food, and receiving only air to remind me of the emptiness. "Mahkemn, Mahkemn, I'm hungry."

He patted my head. "I know, little sister, I know. I am too." He paused. "I think we're gonna have to steal today."

"Mahkemn?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Why don't we just steal every day? It's so much easier, and then you don't have to work all day, but we can go and play and do other stuff."

"It's wrong to steal."

"Why?"

"Because we didn't earn the food. Someone else did."

"Yes, we did. We earned it by taking it from them."

He stopped me and put his hands on my shoulders. "I know you don't know enough to say any better, which is why I'm being patient. It is wrong to steal. We should work if we can. How would you feel if you worked all day, every day, to earn your family food and shelter, and someone took that away from you. How would you feel?"

I thought furiously. "But, Mahkemn, someone did."

He sighed. "Yes, someone did. And was it very nice?"

"No. But if they can, we can to, right? If everyone steals, then it's alright, right?"

"You just said it wasn't very nice. So what's the point of helping the bad along, when it's already there so much?"

"But the bad's still there, Mahkemn! I'm still hungery, Mother's still dead, and we still live in a cave."

"I know, baby sister, I know." He put his arms around me. "We can't control other people's actions, but we can ours, so lets not make it any worse a world then we have to. Come on, Sunshine."

I nodded, trudging beside him. Hand in hand, as we made towards the market.

Malkemen left me sitting on a barrel filled with foul mead and went off to mingle with the folk purchasing from the vendors. My small stomach gurgled at the distant smells of warm baked flatbreads topped with melted cheese and fried fish hot and dripping with oil. Even that horrid meat that plagued the whole town was more then appetizing. I saw my brother, patiently winding himself through the hoard of foul scents that were people. He did not dodge or dart, but became part of the crowd, so other's did see him, but did not look at him. He had patiently explained this to me many times, and I still did not understand it. However, it seemed to work, and I trusted him, so I simply accepted it for being true.

My silent watch was forced to withdraw when the cottage door opened behind me to reveal four men exiting. One was Raschk, the blacksmith, whose home I was sitting in front of, and I felt suddenly nervous. The other three were very tall, and obviously dressed for travel. The first seemed to be a leader who had no authority over the other two except that he was simply the logical choice to command. I studied him a moment, thinking his face was somewhat familiar. I assumed he'd passed by before. He was tan and rough skinned, and his clothes were as dark as his hair that fell unkempt about his shoulders. Every inch of him seemed to be stitched, worn, dirtied, patched, and filled in every possible place with a weapon or other unknown item. The other two were taller, leaner, and far fairer to the eye. Half of their fawn hair was tied back, leaving the rest to fall perfectly about their shoulders and chests. Although they were the obviously companions of the first stranger, they did not bare the same unkempt look, for every inch of them was clean and unscathed. Their ears were also something to behold, as they were pointed; they were elves.

The first was thanking Raschk, apparently for a night's food and lodging.

"You're traveling south now, is it?" asked Raschk. "How far down- just past the Brandywine into Minhiriath?"

The leader shook his head. "Nay- we're going past the Greyflood into Enedwith, and eventually back into Dunland." His voice was surprisingly deep and even for one of such an appearance.

"What brought you up here into Herlindon?"

Another, the taller of the two elves, spoke up. "We skirted the edge of the Shire to travel the Ered Luins. It's different territory we haven't tracked before." He offered no further explanation.

All further conversation was cut off when an outraged yell accompanied by a strangled cry was released above the chatter of the market. My head snapped in that direction, and I saw, amidst the crowd, Talcum, his forehead red and furious, holding my brother by the neck. The small piece of bread he had evidently attempted to steal lay forgotten in the muddy ground, and I saw that Malkemen's feet were several inches above it.

I set off as fast as my four-year-old legs would carry me. I raced towards him, though anything I could possibly do would have little meaning against Talcum's ferocity. I tried to push through the crowd, despite cries of "Ya," and "Look, there's the lil' whore!" and "Here comes _that_ bitch!"

I had forgotten about the three travelers. They stomped past me, brushing aside people much better then I could to get to my brother where Talcum was close to strangling him. The leader placed a dagger sharply across Talcum's throat. "Release him," he growled.

Talcum looked up at him, hands still grasping Malkemen's neck. As he did so, a complex string of emotions crossed his face. His brows furrowed and scrunched so that they seemed to be one, and his upper lip became slack to reveal his uncared for teeth. That moment of taking the sight in was closely followed by an indignant look where his jaw and lip tightened and his eyes became so small I could hardly see them behind his condensed eyebrows. At this the man applied a slight pressure to his bare neck, and Talcum mustered what dignity that he could, his nose now scrunched as though he smelled an awful stench. Malkemen was thrown roughly to the ground, and by this time I had pushed through the gasping crowd and was able to kneel at his side. He sat gasping and massaging his throat. However, no one paid any attention to us, for the action above was much more climatic.

Talcum's face had not changed again, but his eyes held a fire pit of fury and his skin was beet red. "Who are you to place your blade on me? You don't belong here!"

The leader replaced his dagger solemnly. "I am called Halbarad, and this is Elladan and Elrohir. I am a Ranger of the North, and they are of Rivendell, sons of Lord Elrond."

"And what right do you, _Ranger of the North_, have that allows you to stop me from strangling that little wench? I've been waiting eight years to do so, waiting to catch him in the act. Tis our law that tis penalty of death for stealing, and I have followed that law me whole life."

Halbarad sighed. "I'm afraid, then, our two laws contradict, for it is my law that where ever I go I stop unjust affairs such as strangling a starving street-child. If you wish to settle this dispute, I am happy to negotiate." He drew his sword. "Though I can promise you, you won't win."

I did not have the opportunity to observe further, for my brother had apparently regained his voice, and with it whispered sharply, "Come, Kinya, we must flee." With a quick tug, he pulled me out of the crowd until we were able to sprint for the cave. There may have been noises or footsteps following, but I didn't hear them above the rushing of my ears and thudding of my tiny heart.

We reached the outskirts of the cave, breathless, and instead of descending into its depths we stood shuddering on the cliff. I started crying as soon as the distraction of running away was no longer present, but my brother did not comfort me, which made me cry even harder. I looked over at him, and saw that he was crying, too, alone on the cliff face. I didn't want him to cry. He was the big one, he was the one who made everything better. Trying to help, I walked over to him and put my arms around him as well as I could, and he laughed at my feeble attempts and hugged me.

We stayed there for some time, until I suddenly felt myself driven to look back toward Nove, and was somewhat startled, yet for some reason not altogether surprised, to see our rescuers marching towards us.

"Mahkemn!" I proclaimed, panting. "Look!"

He stood up swiftly beside me, and we both stood silently as they approached. With their brisk pace and long legs, it took only a few moments for them to be standing before us. Malkemen had his eyes respectfully to the ground, while I foolishly looked straight up at them, blinking. They were a few feet away, their expressions grim, but not spiteful. They did not speak, just looked at us, and I looked shamelessly back.

My brother spoke first. "I thank you kindly for your services. My life is in your dept." Still his eyes stayed on the ground.

"Humble, and formal, words for one such as yourself," mused Halbarad. At this Malkemen looked up tentatively. Suddenly Halbarad became strict, not unlike a father trying to find the truth between two sons when their stories contradicted. "Why are you stealing when you knew if caught you would be killed?"

Malkemen's eyes shot straight down again. "I had to, sir. We had no food, and could not find work. There was no natural food we could scavenge for and we haven't eaten for two days. I was risking death cause that was better then simply accepting it."

I was watching the elves. They were so beautiful; how was it possible that their hair was blowing gracefully in the wind while mine, Malkemen's and Halbarad's were constantly prone to wipe it away from our eyes? But they seemed unaware of my staring eyes, for both were staring at the sea behind us, as though it were the most wondrous thing they had ever seen. I found this quite stupid; having lived all of my life near the sea, and more recently practically on top of it, I found it to be no interesting sight. Why did they stare so? Hadn't they seen it before? Why did they not stare at the grass or the distant mountains, instead?

Meanwhile, the conversation continued over my head. "That's a nice dagger." Halbarad commented.

Malkemen tensed up. "I didn't steal it. We only steal food when we have to, never anything else. This was my fathers, and I'm not foolish enough to steal something like that and go around wearing it, anyways."

He shrugged. "I was just wondering why you didn't use it."

Malkemen spoke slowly, as though making sure his answers were perfect and he didn't mess up. I found this odd, as he always spoke quickly and readily to me. "Well, I guess there's always a chance of escape, and I don't want to use it until the last moment, so they don't have more reasons to come after me later."

"Hmmmmmmm….Look up at me, boy," Halbarad ordered kindly. Malkemen looked back up. "How old are you, and what be your name? How did you come to be so hated by the villagers?"

My brave brother inhaled slightly. "My name is Malkemen, though many villagers would tell you it is simply Mal. This coming summer will be my eighth. This is Kinya, my sister, just as crudely known as Ya, and lived her forth year this winter. Our mother died two years ago, and no one would help after. They didn't like her very much. We've been living here on the cliff face ever since. The villagers don't like us very much, either," he finished somewhat obviously.

Halbarad turned to the other two, who were oblivious to the whole interaction. Halbarad looked at the uninteresting sea for a moment, then back at them. Tapping each on the shoulder, he jerked them out of their trance, and they had a hurried conversation (with many glances stolen at the surging waves). After several nods in our direction, Halbarad grimly continued.

"My name is Halbarad, and these are my companions, Elladar and Elrohir. I am a Ranger of the North, and they are the sons of Elrond, Lord of Rivendell. We wish to be of further service to you. I ask that you try and cooperate as much as you can. Now where is…. where do you sleep?"

Malkemen looked at me briefly, as though the answer were in my face. I shrugged, hoping that would be significant enough. Silently, he made his way down the rocks toward the cave. I followed him like an unacknowledged shadow, my bare callused feet no longer sliding on the rocks after seasons of practice. They followed silently behind us, their daunting presence causing a million questions in my mind. Through it all, I could not help but notice how the nimble the Ranger seemed on the rocks, when he seemed so big. However, his antics were nothing compared to the elves; they seemed to have lived on such rocks their entire life for the swiftness of their step and sureness of their stride.

I swung into the cave, and settled in a corner, hugging Nima to my chest. I realized that I'd never seen anyone else in the cave before, and the thought of grown men coming into our one secret place frightened me.

Our dwelling was fairly small, built into the cliffs of the sea by means far greater then my comprehension. There were so few necessities laying about that one walking in might not know someone inhabited this place at a first glance. There were the three meager blankets we had scavenged from our own home, a few make shift eating utensils made from sea shells, stones and bark, and there was a water jug my brother had earned while helping with the harvest. Other then that, the cave was empty.

Halbarad took a look around, the elves following suit. I was still amazed by them; how they moved, their fairness of face, their experience in this treacherous territory. I caught all three sneak quick glances at my brother, but only Halbarad even glanced at me. The elves avoided me, but I watched as they consulted one another and sized up whatever unfathomable situation they were in. Then something changed. Quite suddenly…

_The two elves are standing on a dock, awaiting several others; one, their father? How do I know that? One, their father, also an elf, the second, husband and wife, both with long bleached hair that creeps about their forms, their elegant figures standing perfectly straight with the slightest effort. The man is something to behold, but the woman's beauty and grace is that of a goddess. All stand watching the shore, awaiting someone…but who? An old man appears, dressed in white and baring a staff. A quiet looking young woman follows him, dressed in similar robes of green. Behind them several strange people follow, and although they all, especially one in particular, looks old, they couldn't have been much taller then Malkemen was now. How odd…_

_The light shifted, and they and their father are there once again, this time with another elf; a woman, their sister. She has a far off look about her, as though her mind is drifting in the leaves that lay scattered on the ground. The men are discussing something, but what I could not hear, and their expressions yield only unpleasantness. The woman simply watches, playing with her dark hair as her father and brothers frantically plan as though the end of the world is coming…_

_ The light shifted again, then all but died. I saw Elladan and Elrohir once again, their fair faces dark from shadows of the overwhelming forest that haunts the background. They are standing over a figure that is bloody and broken. A child, a boy. His wrangled arms and legs lay askew in the mud and his wet hair limply covers his features. Another man, Halbarad, is crouching over the figure, attending to his wounds. I wondered who it was, until it is made necessary that Halbarad shift his head, and I saw his face…_

I screamed. Malkemen was already at my side, his hands on my cheekbones. I clung to him, sobbing, "Don't go, Mahkemn, don't go!" He tried to soothe me, resting me on his lap.

"Don't go where, little sister?" He whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."  
"With them, with them. Yo-yo-yo-yo-you will die." My sobbing continued more strongly after these words. The clank of Halbarad dropping a seashell we used as a cup reminded us of their presence.

He was looking at me, along with the other two elves, I noticed. His features were pure fear and amazement. "What-what is that?"

I snuggled in closer to Malkemen, liking their avoidance better then their attention. He answered for me, looking down once again. "We don't know. It's been there for many seasons now. She just sees things, people doing things. Her eyes flash, and she just goes….she has no control of it at all. The villagers think she is being taken by devils."

They were still staring at me. My sobs had quieted, but my limbs continued to shake.

Halbarad knelt down beside me, his face right in front of mine so I could not evade him. I still managed fairly well, for a short time. "Child," He said surprisingly gently, "what did you see?"

I pointed of at the elves. "Them," I whispered, "going on a boat with others. And them with their father and sister, talking about war, and then you too, trying to…to…to…" I was so scared. Why wouldn't they go away? Were they going to kill my brother? Was it their fault? They must leave! "Go go go go go go go go!" I murmured over and over.

Halbarad held my face in his hands, and Malkemen softly tightened his grip on me to acknowledge his ever presence. "What were we trying to do, child? You have nothing to fear from us. We will try and help, if we can."

"Yo-you were standing over Mahkemn in a forest. He was dying, and you were tr-trying to save him but you couldn't. An-and he was wet and hurt and you couldn't do anything!" I was crying so uncontrollably that Malkemen lightly pulled me out of Halbarad's reach.

He sat back, hunched over as he silently thought about his current situation. I continued to sob, wrapping Malkemen around myself. After several minutes, Elladan spoke.

"Our father has the gift of foresight. That is not it. I have not seen such a thing before, but it is nothing like what our father has. His does not come in flashes…it is long, like a trance. She seems to see just a picture, for a split second. And I've never heard of it being shown with a flash in the eyes." ****

Halbarad sighed; he had not moved through this pronouncement. That elf I had seen, it was their father? He could see into the future? Maybe he knew of me, of what I had…

"Boy." Halbarad said suddenly, breaking my train of thought, "Malkemen. I have a proposition for you. You must hear me out before you make any rash decisions. It is probably no shock to realize this is not the ideal place for children such as yourselves to grow up. You need a more dependable source of food, warmth and love. This we may be able to supply for you both, though your paths may be different. No-wait, let me finish. Your sister, she-well, first of all, she is young, and she is a female. And she also has this odd…_thing_… that would not go over well with many people. I have seen many odd things in my life, but this…

"We could find a safe home for her, away from people such as your townsfolk who would care for her, despite her eccentricities. You, however, could not stay in some foster home as she could. Your path would be much different. How would you like to travel with us, and perhaps learn from us, travel with us? Of course, it is very possible you may find a trade you enjoy, and a master to teach you it. Either way, you both are safe and happy, which is much more then this hole can offer you."

We sat, looking silently at him. If possible, I was clutching to Malkemen even tighter then before. He was going to leave me, go away forever. He couldn't, yet this was something I knew he wanted, somehow, I knew he just wanted to forget about me, forget about responsibilities and be a boy, instead of having to be a man because he understood the difference. "Mahkemn, Mahkemn.." I murmured.

"Shhhhh," he soothed, "all is well, dear sister." He looked back up at Halbarad, who sat observing us quietly. "Thank you, but I must reject your kind offer. But we will not part. I cannot trust anyone, not with what I have seen of human beings. I could not leave her with someone. I'm all she has."

"Yes, but we could give her-" Halbarad stopped, shaking his head. "I can tell a lot about people in a short amount of time. I think I knew you would refuse. Alas, I also cannot bear to see children such as you suffer.."

I glanced at Halbarad, and noticed he had a wide but shallow scar on the lower side of his face and most of his neck. Putting the pieces together, I realized where I'd seen him beforehand. The demons had shown him to me…this man had had a daughter, who was sick and had died. He'd watched her die, and then in frustration afterwards had taken a knife and jabbed himself with it. "You had a child, didn't you? But she died. It was very sad." I ended regretfully. Amazed at my revelation, I reached out and gently touched to scar.

A shadow crept over his face and he jerked away violently. I realized he probably didn't want to be reminded of the incident.

"Yes," he said simply.

"We must leave soon, Halbarad." Elrohir cut in, staring of into the waves. "The sun moves quickly, and does not change to our want."

"Yes," he sighed again. He glanced down at my brother. "Farewell, child. May the tides be kind to you. I wish you much luck." Malkemen nodded, and Halbarad strode swiftly away to the edge of the cave. Before he left it, he continued, "We travel south down the shore. If you change your mind, that will be our path. Oh, and this might help for the time being." A sac of food materialized from his bodice into his hands before being dropped on the ground. He then continued out. Elladan and Elrohir waited for him to pass, nodded gravely at my brother, taking great care to ignore my presence, and followed him. And as unobtrusively as they had first come, they were gone.****

I got up slowly, working the pins and needles out of my cramped legs. As soon as I had relieved Malkemen of my weight, he jumped up, grabbed a pebble from the ground, and threw it into the sea. I'd never seen a rock fly so far in my entire life.


	6. Desperate Departure

Part 6

Three days passed. We did not leave the cliffs, but lived on the meager rations we had been supplied. On the forth morning our store ran out, and we knew we'd have to go back in the town. Malkemen, however, seemed troubled.

"You should stay here," he said tentatively. "Their tempers could still be high, and it might be better if you stay away from it. I do not wish to leave you, but it may be safer."

"But…but.." I stammered. All alone, on the cliffs, without anyone in the world, the darkness would collapse and I'd be sucked into it. I couldn't be alone…

"I really don't want to leave you here, for you are far to young to spend the morning alone. But you know your way around, and I fear you'll be saver here then in town. Tell you what, while I'm gone, I want you to look along the seashore for anything you can find to be useful. Food, shells, seaweed. You like doing that, remember! And when I come home, we'll have a big feast from what I earned today, alright? And then we'll talk about what we're going to do when we grow up."

I became excited at the prospect. "How we're going to leave and travel and help people!" I exclaimed.

He smiled. "Yes. I'll be back soon. Farewell, dear sister." With that he kissed my forehead, and he was gone.


	7. A Knife in the Dark

Part 7

The tide crept up as far as it could go, and began to fall back again to its murky depths. The sun fully rose, shining bright and making her presence known, and then began to disappear again beneath the sky. It only took a few minutes for my exuberance to fall from the prospect of talking about our future. My brother had left early in the morn, but as time passed there were no soft footsteps proclaiming his return.

I sat on the wind carven rocks, so still I imagined I was part of the ancient stones themselves. The sun had suck so far that the looming shadows had spread throughout the entire world. I sat, watching its last rays caress the water, desperately afraid what would happen if the night came and Malkemen didn't return. He'd said he'd be back soon; why hadn't he come back? At first I'd thought his long absence meant he'd found a job from a kindly villager and had to complete some task before he could return. But he wouldn't stay away this long, not if he knew I were here alone. He would be home, he should be home.

I didn't know if it was my imagination, or simply my curse showing its full might in my frightened state, or a nefarious combination of both, but in my mind I started seeing images. They were still faster then a human eye should be able to catch, but instead of them being at random, however, for the first time in my life they all showed the same thing. Each one was a different version of the same horrible story with the same horrible ending; my brother, laying dead on this very day, murdered by the villager, Talcum. Being cornered and flogged with the leg of a chair, being stoned on a cliff face, being thrown into a burning hearth, and falling, falling, falling into the merciless depths of the sea. They came and came, vision after vision, sight after sight, until I shook out of it, breathing heavily and sweating, but still almost unmoving.

I stood up, my legs cramped and shaking, and hobbled back to the cave. I didn't know what to do. I searched for Nima, but couldn't find her. Scrambling around the damp rocks, I hunted for the only toy I had, desperate but unable to find her. She was nowhere, and that broke me. Tears welted up in my eyes as I ripped through our few possessions. All I found was the long piece of twine my brother had found to tie back her hair, which I placed shakily in my pocket. I wanted to leave, to get out of the cave. I had to go find Malkemen.

My legs were stiff, and my feet silent. My mind was blessedly blank. I did not fear, nor hate, nor cry out in anguish and despair. I simply made the journey from the cave to the village of Nove.

Suddenly, I was standing in the back doorway of the tavern. I couldn't remember walking specifically there, although I knew I must have. Roaring laughter seeped through the kitchen into my ears. I stepped in.

The man who owned the place wasn't there, but his wife and daughter were busy cooking and scrubbing. Both looked up when I walked in, neither saying a word. I walked past them into the public area.

The fire seemed simply to burn and cast shadows, rather then contribute warmth and light to its surroundings. The entire pub was focused on one man, who seemed to be relating a transfixing tale. As he did so, my brother's knife was twirling in his fingers.

"And he never stopped fightin', lil bastard, kept tryin' ter get away! Floggin' soon got boring, so we heated up some iron and gave him a taste 'o that! Kept whisperin' things to him, trying to get him mad. But I ain't a horrible man, I didn't make it go on forever, only a few 'ours. Once I was sure he was close to death's door that we was beyond returning, I cast him inter the rocky shore. We're rid of that scum forever!"

I stood, transfixed, looking blankly at Talcum. He couldn't have done it, wouldn't have, there was no possible way he had done this…he couldn't be dead, wasn't dead…not like mother…

"Aye, we're rid of one of 'em, what about this un?" Another had obviously spotted me and was now pointing at me. That was the last thing I could hear clearly. They must have said some nasty, horrible things, but in that moment my ears were for once innocent. My whole body was going mad. I was so welled up with anger and grief that there was no room for listening to their petty fantasies and threats. My mind was being smashed in a million pieces, and I didn't have the slightest clue how to put it back together again. So I started crying. I'd cried many times before in my life, and it had always felt like a cleansing and renewing. Even when searching for my doll, I'd at least found part of her, so even then the tears rejuvenated me. This however, felt dark and forbidding, for I knew no matter how hard I cried the pain wouldn't go away. My screams vibrated over and under roaring and laughing, my panicked sobs interlacing with the gulps of ale and soft crackle of the fire. Tears strained down my face as fast as the drinks could seep down their shirts, and my whole body shook as much as their chests heaved with laughter.

Why were they laughing? This was only pain, not joy. My brother, my dear brother, was gone. He was all I had. I was completely alone. I felt cold, and trapped. I was truly worthless, they were right. I had nothing, was nothing. I couldn't go anywhere or do anything. I didn't have anywhere to go back to now that the day was done, didn't have warm arms to secure me in my bed. I was alone.

And they were laughing. Laughing about this! How could they? Anger began to well up again, and I began to shake harder, still sniffling, but my crying suddenly stopped as if I was too old to do such a childish thing. I hated crying, hated it for doing nothing, hated it for taking so much energy, hated it for making me poor and weak. What did tears do? Nothing, nothing, nothing…

I looked at Talcum, who was still playing with my brother's dagger. _That's not his,_ I thought. _It's my brother's. And he wouldn't want him to have it. He'd want me to have it._

Someone came up behind me, placed his hand on my frail shoulder, and said "Child-"

"No." I cast whoever said it off, my small voice echoing across the tavern. It had gone quiet, and he and everyone else seemed to be backing away from me, as though the anger radiating from me was too powerful to be close to. The whole place was shaking, although it was probably just my own senses gone haywire. Cups and paper windows were rattling, spoons and forks collapsing from tables and fires crackled as the tried to stay alight. My path to Talcum was miraculously clear, where he stood just staring at me with confusion. I didn't understand why, nor did I care. I took a step forward, my skeletal legs being moved by what meat was left on them. I couldn't see, hear, taste, or feel anything but my anger and rage for this man. Another step, then another, finally until I was standing right next to him.

I held out my hand. "That's mine," I said simply, nodding to the dagger, my whole body so tense that I was shaking with effort at keeping control. "It was my brother's and you killed him. It's mine now." I doubted if he put the dagger in my hand that it could hold it, my hands were shaking so.

He sneered. "You really think I'm going to give it to you, Ya? You're not worthy to kiss my feet, you strangled little-."

Without right mind, preparation, sanity, careful thought, or subtlety, I jumped on him. I put all of my meaningless weight and terrible anger into the jump, right at the dagger that was my dear brother's. The force knocked him down from his chair, as though he were so surprised I'd done such a thing that he'd laid himself open for it. But it didn't feel like that. It felt as though I'd pushed him down.

I realized he wasn't struggling, nor moving, for that matter. I was suddenly frozen, as though that jump had taken the very life out of me. I looked at my hands. They were red and sticky. I looked for my brothers dagger, and saw it resting in between Talcum's ribs. I just stared at it, not feeling any different because of it. People must've been yelling and screaming, but all I heard was a dull roar. Oddly, no one came near me. No one but one man.

His hands were old and wrinkled, his face covered by huge gray eyebrows and a larger gray beard. He pulled me off Talcum firmly, trying to settle me down. I panicked. Who was he? What did he want? I struggled, screaming, "No, no, no!" He was strong, so strong, the strongest man I'd ever encountered, despite his apparent age and frailty. Yet somehow I broke free, probably because of my alarmed adrenaline state. I pulled hard at my brother's dagger and wrenched it free, ran out the door, through the town, and into the wilderness toward the Ered Luins. I just wanted to run forever, get away from everything; what I'd done, what I'd lost, what I was going to do. I ran and ran and ran until I could no longer move, then ran beyond that. I ran so far and so fast that I doubt any creature could've caught me that night, until I fell and dreamed of my brothers death, and the death of the world.


	8. Gaurdian

Part 8

"The sun moves quickly."

"No more then usual."

"Nor any slower."

"Patience. Who knows what we may uncover."

"What are you saying? What is the point of this?"

I could hear first; this ludicrous conversation was playing in the air around me. Next came my awareness of the ground, with its hardness, its bone chilling cold, the small rocks that pinched against my skin. I then realized dimly that although the ground was cold, I was not. There was a warm weight around my body. A blanket?

It took me a while to open my eyes, although the process was speeded by my curiosity. When the covers of sleep finally released me, the first thing I saw was a bright yellow blob, which slowly focused in to be a flame. Flames….fire….fireplace…..in the pub….Talcum….my brother….everything flew back at once, and I sat bolt upright in the terror and realization of it. My head was spinning and thumping so loudly I thought the whole world was aware of it. I went blind for a moment, and I began to whimper.

Two strong hands supported me, and I came to a complete panic. Who was it? What did they want? Was it perhaps the voices that were talking? I wanted Malkemen!

If it was the villagers, it meant they had come for me, and they were taking me away to kill me too. I kept attempting to get free, writhing and squirming but to no avail, for he was not only much larger then I, but he was strong in a way I didn't understand. He had some power over me, and began murmuring unintelligible words that somehow soothed me, and my vision cleared and my panic weaned. That is, at least enough for me to freeze instead of struggle. "Try to stay warm, and calm," he said, smiling gently. "We will not hurt you or harm you in any way. You've had a deep shock- do not push yourself to do things that are not necessary." I allowed myself to be gently set down as he slowly released me and turned me around so I could see him. I observed a long-past-graying man adorned in mud-stained robes, and discovered it was in fact the same man who had grabbed me off Talcum. I looked straight at him, terrified, but trying not to show it, and he looked calmly back at me.

Although I oddly felt a bit more stable, my nerves were so one edge I think I could've jumped a mile into the air if he touched me again, my muscles were that coiled. I slid a bit away from him, keeping the blanket with me. Then I saw the other man. For, of course, it takes two to make a conversation.

He was closer to the fire, observing me softly. He was much younger then the other man, although far from youth himself. His ebony hair was dirty and tangled and fell almost to his shoulders. His chin held a hint of stubble that looked perfectly natural on his rough face of stern features. His clothes were worn and apparently used to hard travel, stuffed with odd assortments of weapons and oddly assorted items. He reminded me of the Ranger, Halbarad. I also had the feeling I'd seen him many times before, and realized astonishingly that I probably had.

My eyes drifted suddenly to his left hand, where on his index finger he bore a ring of silver serpents swirling around a giant emerald.

_A large, finely dressed man, proclaiming freedom to his people, bearing this ring…_

_A man far different from the first, in all but eyes and hair color, speaking with chieftains as this ring glitters in the firelight…_

_A gallant man, dressed for battle as hitching up his sword, with a hand sporting this ring…_

_The same man whom I knew to be standing right in front of, being crowned by the elder in a white city with the same ring upon his finger…_

I shook my head slightly, breathing now slightly faster then before, my shivering returned. I slowly pieced this new information together. I knew kings wore crowns; there was only one explanation. "You are a king?" I asked.

His eyes, which were already wide from the sliver light that had no doubt flashed across my eyes, now doubled their size. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you were a king. Your ring, it-" I stopped, wondering at his tone.

The man looked at the ring. "Yes, this ring marks my true blood line-I am indeed the heir to the thrown of Gondor. But how do you know of this? Few know of my existence, and fewer of my identity!" The skin around his eyes was all scrunched up as though he suddenly had more skin there then he knew what to do with.

"She knows many things," the old man said calmly, his eyes boring deep into mine. "But she doesn't understand them. This child has a great gift I have only seen once in my lifetime. She has trained herself to deal with it as best she can, but it will take more then an untamed fear to command what she has. She has many gifts, all of them interlinked. Few of so few seasons could kill a full grown man with but a dagger and grief sown fury."

"What is it?" the rough king questioned. "What 'gift' does she possess that gives her this knowledge that you speak of so solemnly?"

"Alas, I have not seen this for many years, since the beginning of the third age. It is more commonly called the Sight, and by the elves Anna Celeblhach, the gift of the silver leaping flame. Whomever has it is overcome with visions of past, present and future, what did, is, could, could've, might've, might and will be. The possibilities are endless on what one could see; one could have this gift their whole life and never make sense of any of it. Rarely does it come to humans; elves, being immortal, have enough time to get it under their grasp. This is not a gift given out rashly." He paused then, took out his pipe, filled it and lit it and proceeded to smoke.

I watched him do this, and felt my heart plummet down until it hit my stomach. I knew one thing and I knew it well; men did not like to have conversations when smoking, unless you were also participating. I stood looking at his profile, frustrated, until the younger man pulled slightly on my forearm in indication for me to leave him.

I sat with a plump across from the younger, who was on the other side of the fire, taking in everything that was said. Was I truly not possessed by demons? Was this a gift? A_ good_ thing? How could it be, when gifts were good things? Gifts were things people gave you because…well…I wasn't sure why people gave them to you, but they did, and it made you happy because…it just made you happy! And this thing didn't make _me_ happy…

The younger kept glancing at the elder periodically, for he too seemed impatient. He eventually filled a bowl with stew, sat a few feet from me, and gently placed it into my shaking hands, silent. I was hungry, and I could not remember when I had last eaten. Two days ago? Yes, for my brother had gone to get food…

His memory came harshly, and soon enough the tightness in my muscles return and overcame the idea of food. I remembered I was alone, and helpless. I was a child in the wilderness in a cruel world, and my brother was gone. The only person I'd ever loved, who'd ever loved me, and probably ever would, had disappeared into the crashing waves, and all I could do was murder the man who did it. I'd killed someone! I'd killed the evil Talcum.

I sat there for a long while, welled up in grief. The only movement was my slight shaking. The not-so-kingly-king sat opposite of me, apparently at a loss for what to do. He must've tried to get my attention a few times, and after having failed, whispered, "Gandalf?" with a slight tenseness in his voice. I heard a movement behind me, and the man whose name must be Gandalf picked me up and settled me on his lap. I was not sure I wanted to be there; I did not trust anyone in the village, I trusted no one but my brother. But he had left, and I was grabbing onto the only thing left to me.

I realized the last time I'd been embraced by an adult was by my mother, and that had been a lifetime ago. He rocked me gently, saying little at all for a few minutes. Then he whispered to me, "It's alright to cry, little one."

I shook my head furiously. Crying didn't help, crying didn't help.

He left me alone, then, but continued to rock me. I stopped shaking, but sat there, staring ahead of me.

I heard the other man singing softly under his breath a tune with words I could not comprehend. They seemed to calm me down, and I began to focus on them. "What does that mean?" I whispered, my high-pitched words snapping into the deep, graceful tune.

His voice halted, as though he hadn't known he'd been singing, or was surprised I was speaking to him again. "It is in one of the elven languages; an ancient lullaby, one my mother used to sing to me. The words themselves mean little more then an attempt to sooth."

I began to rattle off responses back at him. "Where is your mother? Can I meet her? My mother's dead, she died two winter's ago." I paused. "Can you teach me that language? It's very pretty. Then I can talk with those elves in their language."

Gandalf chuckled. "It seems you've helped to somewhat tamed her, Aragorn. You should not fear her so."

I looked up at him. "Is that your name? I like that name, it is a very pretty name."

He nodded back at me, though unsurely, as though not certain I was a real person. "It's one of them; my 'kingly' name. I'm also known as Strider, and quite a few others. You may call me whatever you like."

"My name's Kinya." I said contently. Then I froze. "Not Ya." I added.

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

I shuddered. "Cause that's not my name, but what they called me anyways." I snuck closer into Gandalf's lap. It was so warm there, so friendly.

"I can accept that answer." Gandalf nodded to me.

I in turn nodded also, then went back to an earlier question. "Can you teach me that language?" I shot at both of them.

Gandalf replied before Aragorn. "You may have the opportunity to begin learning." He looked thoughtful. "I think you will be with us for a small time."

I looked up at him. Stay with them? Why would I stay with them?

"She's staying with us?" Aragorn asked. For all his earlier efforts, he seemed uncomfortable around me again. "Surely this is no life for a child, especially a maiden as young and uncared for as she?"

"No, of course not. But we cannot just leave her here. There is no town for miles and miles, besides the one she just came from. And they will surely kill her if she returns. And if they don't, how we she live? You are, how many seasons?"

"Four winters." I mumbled.

"Four? You are small, I thought you perhaps three. A smart three, but three nonetheless. Aragorn, how can you expect a little four year old to live alone, by herself, in a town that hates her?"

"There are bigger things at stake then a little maiden from the sea!" He blew up, and started waving his arms like a madman. "I know you have a loving streak in you, but we cannot save every helpless child! Time is short, we must find him, and you're opening an orphanage! We cannot delay!"

"We will find her a home at the nearest town. She will not be with us for long."

"And meanwhile we must wait for her and feed her and make sure she gets enough sleep and overall tolerate a small child! You said yourself that there is no town for miles upon miles; it will be days before we find her a home! And who is to say that someone will take her in?"

"We'll go to the next town."

"There is something amiss here, I know you too well…"

Gandalf said something to the equivalent of 'harumph'.

Aragorn turned sharply away and murmured, "I am not an evil soul, but more lives will be sacrificed then just this child's if we cannot continue on our quest! And you ask why I fear her…" He ended bitingly.

I didn't have the slightest clue what they were talking about. Quest? Sacrifice?

"Gandalf, what's a quest?"

He patted me on the head. "Shhh. I will tell you later. For the time being, Aragorn, it is not your decision. She is coming with us until we can find a more suitable position for her. If you would like to trek ahead, finding her pace too slow, you may do so. I am quite adequate to search alone."

"You have not convinced me in the slightest that this is a good idea."

"I have my reasons." He mused, looking around at the surrounding foliage. "Ah!" He exclaimed, and picked up a little yellow flower with slender, pointy petals. "Don't you think this is pretty?" he asked me.

I shrugged. They grew all over the field from the way from the town to our cave. I played with them, sometimes.

"_Gandalf_."

I picked up the flower and started fiddling with it, pulling off the petals one by one, and, when they were all gone, I popped off the little round head and then started pulling the stem into little strands.

"Yes?" He replied mildly.

"I wish you would share with me your intentions. Many see your doings as eccentric; this seems to have little point or purpose. A whim, almost."

This flared him up. My flower shredded and my hands now sticky, so my attention was brought back to the two men. Why were they arguing? Where they angry? Maybe I should go, for angry men could do bad things. I walked over to the edge of the camp, far away from them, but unaware where to go if I did depart. Meanwhile, the two men continued their combat.

"I thought you knew me better then that. I never do anything on a whim, if you discount my dealings with gardens in Hobbiton. I have a full intent and meaning, however, I do not wish to share it at this moment, as I am not completely sure of her yet. But do you not think someone trained with a gift such as hers would be useful in our coming times?"

He didn't say anything for quite a while. "Is it worth sacrificing you, though?"

There was that word, again. Sacrifice. What was that supposed to mean?

"You are not sacrificing me; you would be using me to my full potential. Now would you please go grab her before she wanders away from the camp and gets eaten by a wolf!"

At the mention of wolves, I came sprinting back towards them.

Gandalf knelt down in front of me. "Kinya, child, I need to talk to you about something, and it's very serious. Will you listen?"

I nodded.

"We cannot take you back to Nove. It is not safe for you there, nor are there any towns close by. Will you consent to stay with us at least until we find a better home for you? To call me your guardian?"

"I want Mahkemn."

"I'm sorry, child. He is gone. I cannot get him back for you."

"Why?"

"I did not create the world, but that is how it flows."

"NO!"

"Child…"

If Malkemen would not come back, I would…I would…

I felt something hot start in my stomach and snake through the rest of my body in hot bursts. I picked up rocks and threw them as far as I could, angrily Why did he have to go? All I wanted was my brother…he was my only family! My mother was gone, I had no father, and Talcum had murdered my brother…

Gandalf's arms were around me. He began whispering in my ear. "Child, I cannot bring him back, nor can I replace him. But we cannot leave you here all alone. We will take care of you."

"NO!" I shook my head and tried to run away, entirely forgetful about Gandalf's threat of bears. Unfortunately, his arms were too strong, and I was no match.

"Kinya, I'm sorry, sweetheart. But either you come with us and be safe, or we leave you alone with the villagers."

I didn't want that. But I didn't want anything. Maybe they'd kill me...put me where Malkemen was…and we'd be together!

"And, perhaps, before we find you a new home, I can begin to teach you how to control the visions that follow you. Help you learn to overrule them."

This stopped me. "You…can?"

"Yes, I believe so. To some extent, although it takes time. As I said, normally elves have this gift…I've never heard of it being given to a human, and the fact that you've gotten it so young… Furthermore, this is the question; do you wish to go with us? We are traveling across this land, and will be moving at a rapid pace, but you will be safe, and we will give you food fire. Until further notice, I will be your guardian, and your teacher. It would be somewhat of an adventure."

Pause.

"It would be wise to accept, Kinya."

I wasn't quite sure what accept meant, but I understood what he was saying. Go with him, and I could get rid of the demons. Go with him, and be safe. Go with him, and go on an adventure.

Aragorn was in the background, muttering to himself and looking into the fire. His face was dark and eerily illuminated by the flames. He was a dark man, a scary man. I wasn't sure if I wanted to stay with him…

I remembered what my brother always used to say, about how we'd go off adventuring, saving people and being heroes. I'd loved that story, for it gave me some hope to dream of something. I'd always believed it, but his death had been something of being dropped onto the rocky ground. He'd let the opportunity of leaving go to stay with me, and now he was gone. My old protector was gone, and now I had a new one. If for nothing but to remember my brother, I would go with them and do what I could do, be what I could be. For my brother, I would go.

I nodded. A solid look of approval went over Gandalf's features, and spun me around in his lap so that our faces were level.

"So, then, Lady Kinya, I name you my apprentice and my charge." He smiled and shook my tiny hand.

I looked up at him happily. This was far too much excitement in one day; I began to yawn. I ate supper with them happily, then Gandalf placed me gently down, back under my blanket, and I fell back asleep, safe in the presence of my guardian.

Yay! Finished, woop! I PROMISE I'll work on the next one, I PROMISE! Please RR!


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